


Lists, Faith, and Bajoran Nomenclature

by adrunkgiraffe



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Artistic Liberties, Gen, alternate perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 03:58:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrunkgiraffe/pseuds/adrunkgiraffe
Summary: She did believe in the prophets, once. She was actually the most devout Bajoran in the order, and Opaka’s prodigy up to a point.





	Lists, Faith, and Bajoran Nomenclature

She did believe in the prophets, once. She was actually the most devout Bajoran in the order, and Opaka’s prodigy up to a point.

She had met Opaka at the age of 9, when the future kai had just reached Vedek status. She was dropped off at a temple by her parents, both rebels. Her mother hugged her and promised that someday they would return, and Bajor would be free. All she had to do was stay there, with the Vedek, and have faith in the prophets

There was a Cardassian telescreen opposite the temple. Once a week there would be an ‘appeal’ to the Bajorans that consisted of the names of newly deceased rebels being read out in Kardasi order (first/last) by a smug Gul.

A week after Adami’s mother hugged her goodbye, both her parents’ names appeared on that list.

So, officially orphaned, she had gone up to Opaka Sulan and asked to be inducted into the temple. Opaka had smiled and agreed. Winn studied for years and, by the age of 17, had become Prylar to Vedek Opaka, who was fast gaining support in the Bajoran underground to become Kai. Of course, Opaka didn’t mind much either way what she was considered. She was only there to support her people. Prylar Winn admired that.

At the age of 23, Ranjen Winn was in another order, holding a bag of gems and begging a Cardassian to divert just one transport, just save a few Bajorans.

She had been separated from Opaka by circumstance when the woman had saved her from her first arrest. Opaka, religiously influential as she was, had been given a 10 year sentence for outspoken religion, twice the usual. Winn was the one who was supposed to be taken away, who wasn’t careful enough and let one of her prayer scrolls fall out of her belt on a routine sweep. Winn should have been arrested but Opaka answered the officer’s question before she could, claiming the scroll to be hers.

At the age of 25, she had become more outspoken. She had openly given a sermon to many disillusioned Bajorans and had graciously accepted punishment. This graciousness and unabashedness was adequately rewarded. a few months short of 26 saw her beaten, bruised, and stuck in a prison camp for 5 years.

There, once again, she had met her Kai, elected in absence as a martyr of the uprising Bajoran Resistance. Bombs were racing past the holes in the roof as Adami cried, transported back to that little girl in the temple. Out of the darkness came a comforting hand, and a warmly familiar face.

“All will be well, Adami.” Opaka smiled, just as she had smiled when 9 year old Winn had started her journey. “Trust in the Prophets.”

5 years later saw Ranjen Winn out of prison, more dedicated than ever to the cause of her people. No matter how many beatings she got, how scared she was, she would live to see a prosperous Bajor. That future must exist in the eyes of the Prophets, it must.

35 year old Vedek Winn saw her Kai at the temple, 10 years out from the end of the occupation. Opaka was walking with someone familiar from another temple within the city, a fastly promoted Prylar named Bareil. They seemed very deep in discussion, and Winn’s one faulting trait was curiosity. She followed them to darkened room in the temple, with a telescreen showing a vaguely smug Cardassian officer.

“Do you swear that this information is verifiable?” The officer asked.

“Yes.” Came the Kai’s answer, short and clipped.

“Very well. Send the coordinates, Kai.” The officer drawled. Enjoying the devastation in Opaka’s voice.

“Only when you promise that you will draw back from Kendra Valley after you destroy the stronghold. Only the base is to be targeted, or this deal is off.”

“Yes, the Gul has agreed to pull back if you comply.”

“Do you swear that this information is verifiable, Glinn?” the Kai asked defiantly.

“Yes.” The Glinn replied, irked by this show of resilience.

“Fine, I’ll transport the coordinates now.” But as she moved to do so, Bareil made a slight shift from supportive silence, and nudged the Kai’s wrist with his hand. He whispered something to her, Winn couldn’t tell what. The kai looked to him with such sadness in her eyes, but also resolve.

“I know, Antos. It pains me much to take this action.” She spared a glance at the screen. “But better to sacrifice a few dear ones than to sit by and watch thousands more lost.” Bareil nodded, sadness also in his eyes. Winn didn’t see it because she was running away from that horrid room, tears in her own.

A few hours later, after the Kai led a service as part of her visit to the temple, Winn felt a need to check on her friend and mentor.

“Your Eminence, May I have a word?” Opaka’s face lit up at this.

“Of course, Adami. I always enjoy our conference.”

“Well, Eminence it’s -”

“Adami, you know you may call me Opaka or Sulan as you wish.”

"Oh, well, Sulan, it’s just…you seem a bit…troubled…as of late.”

“I assure you, my child, I am fine.”

“Are you sure? I know you are worried about your son…he is after all, with the resistance-” Something in Opaka’s face changed at that, and Winn immediately regretted even speaking. It wasn’t anger, though, but just a slight sadness.

“I know the prophets will take care of him, and of us all.”

The next day, another telescreen read another list of casualties in more smug Kardasi and another name that Winn knew was on that list.

Now, 45 year-old Vedek Winn looked through the window of a former Cardassian station and knew that that was the moment she had begun to let doubt creep in. When part of her had stopped. Ironically, this realization came just as a wormhole opened, when the prophets that had let those lists happened became real beings.

And when, later that same year, a serious-faced human read a list of one casualty in proper Bajoran nomenclature, she couldn’t help but whisper ‘liar’ to no one, and miss her adoptive mother.


End file.
